I know this isn't strictly 'Books' as it were but I thought hey....books and creative writing should run hand in hand!

So here's a thread for all you poets out there wishing to either:

Inspire
Wow
Amuse
Shock

or whatever you might wish to do with words that may or may not rhyme!

Go on...give it a go.... :cool2:

More Cows
------------
If a cow had a bigger brain
Would it stand out in the rain
Would it let the farmer come
And stick his hand right up its bum
Would it leap clear of the grate
To avoid becoming stake
Or would it simply be the same
If it had a bigger brain?

Food Stuff
-----------
Currants and Saltanas
Are much better than Bananas
But not nearly such an interesting shape
Cabbages and Carrots
Aren't a hit with parrots
But look good with a roast upon the plate

Coastie you are an inspiration to us all....



But I still can't string two words together to make any sort of poetic sense, so I will just keep reading yours.

My hamster's got an enormous pouch
The other day he swallowed my couch

LOG RHYTHM

Gently, dawn whispers into the mist;
imagines fleeting shadow shapes
in voile scarf-skin;
drops lighted silk drapes
from a glistening canopy,
skirting and flirting around the boles
of forbidding tree trunks,
teasing and pleasing
to dryadic creaking;
revealing a log:


a hollow log of deadwood,
cave-in full of leaf mould,
home to generations of tiny horrors;
a fossilized image of former splendour
living a kind of life
after a kind of death;
outside time,
unaffected by seasons
yet painfully aware
of every tick and every tock.


Shafts of virgin sunlight
pierce the glowing haze,
sear away the negligee,
bind the dryads until dusk.
Night surrenders all to day.

A butterfly dances in a beam,
dressed in golden, molten honey:
grace and beauty,
lighter than a feather,
breathtaking choreography.


Can a log hold breath?
Can a hollow log,
outside time,
conceive of the urgency
in a brief life of beauty?
Can a log wish so hard
that the grass around it scorches?
Can a butterfly hear that wish,
or does she simply, lightly, land
and kiss the smiling log asleep?


Gently, evening draws a velvet curtain
over the ticking earth.
Mist issues from the soil
and playful wisps caress the dryads
until even they notice the hush, and still.
In a hollow log,
in a pocket of leaf mould,
new life has been born.
A seed has been planted:
a buddleia seed.

Ode to BBC3

When I first got BBC3
On my Panasonic TV
I was expecting not to have to gripe
Having heardthe burb and hype.

Much was promised in the way
Of much of variety every day
But I have to say I'm not very smitten -
It's constant repeats of Little Britain.

Dear BBC please listen to me
And put something fresh on BBC3.

My hamster's got an enormous pouch
The other day he swallowed my couch
Your poetry is an inspiration and a delight!

Wow Dab....that's the sort of poem to read just before bed time as it will inspire wonderful dreams...beautiful! :cool2:

Buzz....go on you can do it! :blink:

Maxine....total nonsense...you are indeed a cracking nonsense poet! :wacko:

SF - I know where you're coming from! :angry:

Tonee - and where's yours might I ask! :glare:

Even More Cows
------------------
A man in a beard can seem very wierd
A woman with it can seem stranger
But a cow with a tash is rather rash
A can point to mad cows and danger!

Wow Dab....that's the sort of poem to read just before bed time as it will inspire wonderful dreams...beautiful! :cool2:

:blush: Why, thank you. I can't rattle off funny stuff like you can, though. That's real talent. :bye:

My hamster's got an enormous pouch
The other day he swallowed my couch
It's funny cos it's true!

:blush: Why, thank you. I can't rattle off funny stuff like you can, though. That's real talent. :bye:

Not talent....just alot of nonsense which rattles around amongst the marbles of my mind (forget windmills....it's definately marbles) :unsure:

I LOVE LOVE LOVE poetry, it is one of the few things I am passionate about. But I'm crap at witty, off the cuff, quick poetry - so hats off to all the funny, witty contributors here! :)

Not talent....just alot of nonsense which rattles around amongst the marbles of my mind (forget windmills....it's definately marbles) :unsure:
Don't be so dismissive! it' is a talent - and a funny clever one to boot!

Cheers Dol..... :blush:

Cheese
--------
A pound of cheese wont make you sneeze
Just make you a little wider
It'll fill your bum and thighs and waist
And is very nice with port or cider
A bit of stilton at the hilton
Will make you feel a lady
A baby belle by the canal
Will make you a little cazy
But just remember one big thing
A don't underestimate my words
To eat to much cheese wont make you sneeze
Just cause your guts to burst! :sick:

This is not original I'm afraid but:
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Cut the crap, where's the bar (wrong forum!)

Pooting
--------
It is a hoot to release a poot
That doesn't smell to sicky
If you're good you can play a tune
Just don't follow through it's icky
If you do it don't be ashamed
It's all natural you see
To pump a tune from your behind
Have a go on three!

Farm Animals & Councelling
------------------------------
When I go down to the farm
I talk to the horses and cows in the barn
I tell them all my troubles and woes
And bore the udders of the poor fellows
The horses whinnie for me to leave
And the cows simply drop a pat on me!

I have a shoe made of rhino
It covers my left foot with pride
It cost me an arm and a leg though
It's valuable stuff is that hide.

But everything worked for the best lo
Cos after I'd paid for one shoe
With the one arm and leg that I mentioned
I needed no more than one shoe.

:huh:

LMAO - Excellent Floops! :laugh:

Tonee it may not be original but it is a start... :cool2:

Danny the Crocodile
----------------------
Danny was a crocodile
He swam along the river
He ate small children and baby goats
But always left the liver
One day a hunter came along
And gave Danny a good stab
The hunters wife was so impressed
With her new croc skin handbag!

Pooting
--------
It is a hoot to release a poot
That doesn't smell to sicky
If you're good you can play a tune
Just don't follow through it's icky
If you do it don't be ashamed
It's all natural you see
To pump a tune from your behind
Have a go on three!


If you want a little something
To improve your rear-end tune
Just nibble at the following
And you'll be trumpeting soon

A dozen small red chillis
Are definitely recommended
To give your music that extra blast
When it comes out rear-ended

And a nice hot chicken vindaloo
Will present you with no trouble
If you want the timbre of your tune
To oscillate and bubble

But if your family complains
That your noise don't make them happy
You can shove some wadding up your **** -
Or wear a soundproof nappy.

:laugh: :laugh: Brilliant SF! :laugh: :laugh:

Boobs
------
Big boobs are nice if you can support them
A handful is nice if a man is to enjoy them
Small ones are good if the man wants a mouth full
But droppy ones don't make the grade or an eye full
The drag on the ground or get caught in knickers
You step on your nipples and make the kids snicker
They are an embarassment if you go on the swings
They really are the most akward of things!

In the morning I feel fine
When evening comes, I like to whine
It isn't that the day has shook
But that so many people live by the book

In order for the woes not to infiltrate
I drink my wine and settle late, too late
The dreams of night reset my balance
Tomorrow comes and I return to the dance


I tried!

tonee.....you tried and succeeded..nice one! :cool2:

tonee.....you tried and succeeded..nice one! :cool2:

Many thanks Coastie, put a smile on my face!

Down in the darkest dankiest depths
there lives a flobbly floo
Who wibbles all day in a flobular way
in a roomful of purply goo.

He dines at a table of jellyish blue
and eats with a rubber-like spoon
his favourite dish is of custard and fish
served cold in an unwashed spitoon

The flobbly floo is a curious thing
you wouldn't invite him to tea
and he wouldn't come cos his wobbly bum
Wouldn't fit through his front door you see.

Breast Sex (don't read if you're of a nervous disposition)

I've been prompted by McCrirrick
To pen one of my ditties
For all the blokes who like to sh*g
A pair of outsize titties

It's not my cup of tea you know
But according to ol' Floopy
There's lots of blokes who like it
Between a pair that's plump and droopy.

If a man says give me bigguns
Don't criticize his grammar - he's
Expressing his desire
For a pair of outsize mammaries

With a bit of baby oil
It's probably quite certain
That if the fit is snug enough
The bloke will soon be squirtin'

A word of warning though
For any lady wanting to try
Don't lean over for a view
Or you'll get it in the eye

Poor Booby had that happen
When McCrirrick tried it last time
I hear that she's persuading him
To find another pasttime

I only hope he doesn't do
What I think he might
Which is find a friendly choirboy
To help him through the night.

I saw a line of ants
March across my floor
I grabbed them by the pants
And shoved them out the door

I found a little mouse
Had eaten all my cheese
He was living in my house
And even had some keys!

A fly was buzzing
Around my head
He used to have a cousin
But now he's dead

DIETARY NOTES

Red nights in the sky
remind me of Shepherd's Pie;

lichen on logs...
mayonnaise with hotdogs;

Gothic chateaux...
Black Forest gateaux;

Wimbledon commentary team...
yes, strawberries and ice cream; and

pink lava lamp lights...
Fry's Turkish Delight.

Chutney

I like chutney sometimes
Sometimes I do not
I like it with tomatoes
As long as it's not hot

I don't like mango chutney
But beetroot is divine
If someone else likes pickles
I'd gladly swap them mine

Picalilli looks like sick
And should be banned by law
pickled eggs are dead boiled heads
of alien mutant spore

when my tongue-tie unravels
and my vocabulary scrabbles
and I suffer with loose vowels
elegant becomes elephant
and I stumble over consonants
then rhyme arrives automatic
and I spout enigmatic poetry

SUMMER SILENCE

heaviness hanging beneath teasing breezing
washing through paper leaves
washing washing
twinkling dappling strobing light
on violet eyelids
stroking warm skin
stroking stroking
almost wakening libido
breathing in sunskinsmell
sighing
remembering another silent summer
pretending at reading O Level nonsense
studying bikini lines
to the muted tones of jethro tull
crosby stills nash and young
leonard cohen
remembering those albums are still around somewhere
is that a record
nice to listen again
without having to explain
that you can be sad without having to be depressed
supposing that nostalgia really is a thing of the past
when half-thoughts start to half-rhyme
it may be time for another swim

Wow you guys are good! :shock:

LIDS
------
When I try and open a lid
I like to use my hands
But I use a chisel if it is
The lid of a paint can
To use a knife would be dangerous
As it could slip and slice
Right through the flesh of my fair hand
That would not be very nice
If it's one that can be twisted
I hope it's not to tight
But have been known to use a door
If I can't loosen it by might
For ones which pop up like a cork
The thumbs come into play
I push up beneath the very edge
Until it finally gives way

This time of night is lonely,
but everything is all right.
For you are there beside me,
to make the darkness light.
I think of you with a fondness
that i can barely hide;
a secret that i keep from you
hidden deep inside.
Our innocent encounter
took my breath away;
changed things forever
on that special day.
Your perfume lingers still,
the touch of your hand in mine;
your voice echoes once more,
through the sound of pouring wine.
I wonder what you are doing now,
and remember you as then;
the memories come flooding back
and i need you in my arms again.
I gaze upon your picture
and gently kiss your face;
wishing we had met,
another time, another place.
For then i would have finished
what is not now mine to start;
And done whatever i had to do,
to ease my aching heart.

BEYOND THE MIRROR

Just a glimpse,
a single flicker of instant recognition,
one cosmic flash
and my mental shutter clicked
and recorded the image on my memory.

One glimpse.
That's all I got and yet it was more than enough
to warm my soul
and raise goosebumps, and convince me
that I have seen the Garden of Delight.

You were there:
dancing beauty, dancing life and strength and freedom
and you were
and are and will be an integral part
of the Garden and you share Delight.

I loved you
and love you and will love you as only we who have seen
beyond the mirror
can love the dancing spark of another
who has shared a glimpse of the Garden.


Dancing with the Light,
colour shining through you
and fanning from your fingertips,
spinning swirls of life and love and beauty
paint the wild flowers with rainbow inspiration.
Sitting on a grassy bank to watch you dance
I inhale your slowly sparkling
and deeply jewelled wisdom,
at one with the Garden.

Dancing with the Word,
understanding everything
in perfect clarity, exploring
original inflection with inspired stress,
portraying the truth with immaculate movement.
Sitting on my grassy bank, I understand.
The flowers understand too.
For a remembered second
dancer and watcher
and Light and Word
are One Spark.

Loo Brush
----------
I sometimes sit upon the loo
Reading a book or thinking of you
I might send a text out to a friend
As I clog up the bogs U-bend
Quality time is so hard to find
In the hectic world of mine
Just a few moments to be alone
With my thoughts and mobile phone
But when I'm done and do the flush
I always clean round with my loo brush

Random
---------
Pineapples are not the only fruit
A fart is a fart and not a poot
A bat is a rodent it simply has wings
A fly is a target for newspapers that swing
Over the mountain and into the valley
A bowling ball rolls down the alley
Snickers will always be Marathons
And a crime is commited by a low down felons
Random rhyme or nonsense slang
A hover craft skirt blows up with a bang.

Chickens are feathery
They do not like cold weathery
Coz rain is bad
And Chickens go mad

I've just read through all of these, and they are brilliant,

Well done guys.

Cookie...welcome to the party! :bye:

Andrea...where is your contribution? :glare:

Spoon
-------
Spoons are the best form of cutlery
A fork is okay but a bit Pointy
A knife is fine but it doesn't hold peas
Give me a spoon anyday please!

Breakfast
-----------
Eggs, bacon and a slice of toast
Mushrooms and sausage I love most
Beans, tomatos and fried bread
This is the breakfast I like the best!
Pancakes, sugar and lemon squirt
Ready brek, fruit and honey don't hurt.
All these things I love to eat
When I finish my shift and am feeling beat!

Spoons are the best form of cutlery
A fork is okay but a bit Pointy


You might like spoons
but nevertheless
A spoon, being round,
is completely pointless.

A Beer.

A beer for my dear
Yes dear no fear
Fear no deer
They don't bite.

x

You've got me at it now:laugh:

My first attempt at poetry.



Night time.

It soon becomes dark
With stars in the sky
How far does the light travel
To our own eye.

Up there is Orion
And the Milky Way
What is the meaning
Of us today?

The Universe is infinate
Supposedly so
How far can we travel
How far does it go?

I am here on this planet
Looking up to the sky
And sometimes I wonder
Just why?

We all are different
Yet we all are the same
We are all living this life
This life which we tame.

Trust what happens
It's meant to be
Somehow, somewhere,
Someone is looking after me.

Hey Coastie :bye:

I agree, spoons are fab


hmm let me see, my next piece of art:

Flies are very buzzyhttp://www.angelfire.com/ex2/pinkfrogz/emotions/fly.gif
and also quite fuzzy

They do make a racket
thats why u should whack it!

Andrea....excellent! Keep it up! :cool2:

Cookies
--------
Biscuits are yummy
But Cookies are best
A higher class of junk
They do pass the test
So next time you want a nice little treat
Don't go for the ones that are nice to eat
Instead flick a switch and put up your feet
And enjoy the Cookie of Sesame Street!

FRUIT
-------
Is it nice to be a plum
Or better to be a prune
To be a grape would be rather dumb
But what fun to be berry blue
Seek a seed inside a fruit
Whatever one you feel will suit
Plant in your belly button
And enjoy more fruit and less mutton

Here's another one I did the other night when I'd had a few glasses of wine. I think the poet in me only comes out after a drink:laugh:


When I was young
I used to play
With a space hopper
All through the day

Me and my brother
We used to make up
Championship races
To win the cup

We'd jump round the garden
As happy as can be
Then mum would shout
It's time for tea.

Mice

Mice are dim, they have to be
Or please explain to me
How my fat lardy waddly cats
Can bring them home for tea.

Dave the Badger
------------------
Dave the badger was feeling low
He couldn't count past three you know
Try as he may through night and day
One, two, three....but four.....Oh no.
He went to the weasel for some advise
The weasel said, 'go ask the mice!'
But all the mice said see the weasel
So he went back but the weasel had measels
He didn't want to count any more
So Dave was stuck with one, two, three and no four.

Love

I've told you off a thousand times
for weeing on the floor
It goes all up the bathroom walls
and sometimes hits the door

I hate it when you cut your nails
and leave them on the bath
and when you put your cigarettes out
on the garden path

I always trip up on your pants
when coming up the stairs
and heave when finding that the plug
is full of shaving hairs

But after all is said and done
I know I'm being silly
Cos most of all I love you cos
You've got a giant willy.

:laugh:Brilliant Floopy:laugh:

Im loving that Floops - have just printed it off to give to Mr Q :laugh: :devil:

Floops hits the nail right on the head! :laugh: :laugh:

Floops hits the nail right on the head! :laugh: :laugh:
Who says size doesnt matter?!?!?!?! :unsure: :laugh:

small men, mostly :devil:

Floopy flow I love you so

Especially In you’re nightie

When the moon light flits across

Your tits Jesus Christ almighty

In my re-shuffle today I found a poem I wrote to my hubby not long after we were married and although it is not nonsense I would like to share it with you?


I think my husband may be perfect!

I really think my husband may be perfect
'Darling, can you wash the bath out, please?',
'Now or later', he replies with no hesitation.
He rings me at least once a day,
to say 'Hi' or 'How are you'?

His jokes are so terrible they make me laugh.
'Oh don't you think the lawn needs a cut?'
'I'm on my way', with a smile.
He never complains if I spend too much on clothes,
He even buys me shoes to add to my collection.

'I can't be bothered to make tea'
'No problem, shall I cook or shall we go out?'
He tells me I am beautiful,
and strokes my feet every evening - oh bliss!
And does this willingly and lovingly.

'There are a couple of jobs that need doing this weekend',
'Just make a list babes', he says.
He doesn't mind if I warm my cold toes
on his warm body in bed.
He always has to touch on part of me to fall asleep.

I love him so much and
I KNOW MY HUSBAND IS PERFECT.

It's amazing what you find tucked down the back of the sofa isn't it Flip... :cool2: Lovely....oh and don't worry about the no nonsense bit...this is a thread I hope would inspire all kinds of creative poetry..... :cool2:

More Luuurve
---------------
He loves me, he loves me not
He thinks I'm cold, he thinks I'm hot
He thinks I'm cuddly or is it fat
Maybe I should ask him that
But if I did he would say
Yes you're a bus and I love you that way!

Delia Smith

Delia Smith likes to cook
She does it her self, not from a book
She likes Norwich City
She's true, strong and gritty
..and she really does not give a ****.

A Hypothermic Tale
----------------------
As I fight the urge to sleep
And my body shivers from lack of heat
I feel my toes begin to curl
And my stomache contract, like I'm gonna hurl
Try as I may I cannot get warm
I pray I will see the light of dawn
I bring my knees up to my chest
I hug them tightly, drop my chin to my breasts
I rock slowly back and forth
Please Lord grant me a little warmth
Can't go to sleep, might never awake
I shrink further with every shake
Suddenly a warm hand comes to find me
A rush of relief rushes right through me
I look up and see a welcome sight
This man will save my life tonight
I say to him, please, please help me sir
He says yes and lifts me from the Asda Freezer
I'd only reached in for a tub of ice cream
It was the last tub and to deep for me
An elderly lady bumped my bum with her trolly
And I tumbled in amongst the ice lollies.

CHRYSALIS

I know you.
I know your fearful bravado,
your conflictual instincts tearing you
between the undemanding life of a larva
and the relentless development of imago.

I see through your hard-case shell.
I understand well the seething struggle
within your cool persona,
your immature effort to project a pattern.

You are so right about so many things:
life is bitter;
life is sweet;
your fellow pupae are cool cannibals
and Fate prowls with a sharp pin.

You are so wrong about so many things,
but that is natural:
that is your job.

You will survive your wars
and emerge well-decorated.
Life will lend you genuine quietism,
a warm patina,
and the sure knowledge
that cold is not cool.

I remember you fondly.
I love you and offer this comfort:
Life is nicer
at forty than at fourteen.

Bike
-----
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to wear Lycra
I want to wear a protective hat
And ride up on the curb
I want to race it through the street
Bump past old ladies
Run over their feet
Tick them off and make the shout
'You hodlum or you no good lout!'
I want to ride so very fast
If only I could free the saddle from up my bottom! :ohmy:

VIATICAL SETTLEMENT

she hasn’t been hungry for weeks
her appetite has eaten itself
her only sensation
is faint recognition that
soon she will fall off her shelf

the calendar clutched in her claw
records eighty two soft pencil lines
one mark for each dawn
since her decision was born
eighty two signs of the times

her doorbell has been dumb for weeks
her path is off the beaten track
the neighbours all know
she went away months ago
and no-one’s sure when she’ll be back

she drifts in and out of the room
her will power lighter than air
she just made Bob his tea
in nineteen fifty three
without even leaving her chair

her presence has no place in the future
the past is her long lost friend
her sins all confessed
she knows she is blessed
she has accepted her faith in the end

many miles away in a palace
a distant relative sits enthroned
in political splendour
spawn of the blender
his evening speech finely honed

elect of the carnivore party
a radical force in his youth
he has grown introspective
savagely protective
of the decay flowering in his sweet tooth

a telephone call interrupts
his flow of preparatory fluency
his speech put aside
some old woman has died
starved of care in his constituency

he wouldn’t know her from Adam
she’s never made trouble before
cut to the chase
find manoeuvring space
the press will surely pick this sore

this has implications for his speech
his welfare sale for the private sector
clearly an emergency
requiring some urgency
he telephones the spin doctor

no problem think positive Right Hon
comes the enthusiastic reply
use the death of the crone
it’s a good stepping stone
expose inefficiency to the public eye

think who could be to blame
social services for a start
family friends
council overspends
market forces would keep them alert

don’t postpone your speech
refine it with righteous anger
be subtle and weave
knowledge up your sleeve
let the opposition drop their clanger

thank goodness for public relations
and for allies who don’t lose the thread
my chances looked thin
but you saved my skin
who said the health service is dead

her funeral is a quiet affair
graced with flowers from her beneficiary
he’s ever so grateful
she was so instrumental
in achieving success for his policy

Fruit
-----
Cabbages are not the only fruit
In fact they are no fruit at all
Apples fit in that line of food
But should be picked before they fall

Cheese
--------
Cat has her cheesey box
It's admired by all who see
It's stocked to the brim with gorgonzola
But I particularly like her Brie
She works hard to keep us fully stocked
With the cheeses of the world
To educate us past the cheddar
And to avoid the baby belle.
Cheesey strings simply will not do
It's the exotic stuff she knows
Which is why when you visit her cheesey box
She'll give you a peg to put on your nose. :sick:

These are brilliant
I'll have a go.......

Kimmys Car

I drive a ford fiesta zetec-s
Although I feel I must confess
It started as a 1.6
This was something a I had to fix

I added a performance induction kit
It sounded like a monster with it
Still not satisfied I went made on the styling
Now Ive got reciepts that need filing!

Spoilers & splitters I went mad
"you're ruining your car" said my dad
However when my dads friends come round
Its "come see Kims car" Its proper sound

Leather seats was the last thing I bought
They'll be lovely, well thats what I thought
On a cold winters morning I get into my car
The leathers so cold my nipples stick through my bra

Im thinking now the modding has got to stop
I keep telling myself "Thats your lot"
However I now want the windows blacked out
I can see I'll never stop spending
without a doubt!

You guys are all very talented.

As for Dab, you're bloomin good at this aren't you! Very moving, very poignant.

I won't even attempt to cling onto the coattails of your greatness, so instead here's a poem about biscuits. (It uses the seldom seen random rhyming technique)

I fancied something sweet,
I knew not what to eat,
So I opened up a tin
and aspied the goods within

A tin of scrummy biscuits
Fig Rolls, Nice and Bourbons
The Nice weren't nice at all
Indigestible by Gorgons

And who's this Gary Baldy
Should I eat him just the same?
I've never had a slaphead
or one with Gary as a name

Why are Shortbreads long?
And Rich Tea always cheap?
Do Ginger Nuts in packets
make redheads wince and weep?

Cookies filled with chocolate chips
A tempting pack of lies
All I found was chocolate
No hint of sweet French fries

Is there custard in the Custard Creams?
What makes a Lemon Puff?
Are Jammie Dodgers the staple diet
of women up the duff?

Is it cruel to eat a Penguin?
What makes an Almond Thin?
If you activate your mobile
Will a Coconut Ring?

I put the lid back on
Until another time
My questions left unanswered
by this silly pointless rhyme

No, no, no, Nox... not pointless, but lovely. I read it, then went straight to the larder and raided the biscuit tin. :bye:

Im sat here bored outta my head
Thinking of a topic for another thread
You see I have a zs sat outside
But I can't drive it im missing the ride!

The reason is Ive had an operation
Now I cant drive Im going mad through irritation
My car is there all shiny like new
I want to take it out so people can see flahes of blue!

Im sat at my computer desk
Thinking im sick and tired of all this rest
All I want is to drive my ford motor car
Insteads Im sat her getting blisters from the amount of times Ive pushed the spacebar!

The nurses said "No driving for 6 weeks"
Now Im gonna join www.computergeeks
I long to feel the the accelarater under my right foot
& the thrust of the engine ...but

I must get better before I can drive
Thats if I can stand it & stay alive
You see its killing me not going for a ride :sad:

Im feeling really down today
I've really got the blues
I don't know what I want to say
Its just sometimes we get bad news

Life can be a bitch a times
It makes you so feel so sad
It makes you feel like cracking up
Your mind is spinning, your going mad!

Theres things that can happen that we just cant change
A mix of emotions of a vast range
You try to be strong and fight it
But sometimes we just can't hide it

Im feeling really down
Im trying not to frown
Im trying hard to be strong
I hope this feeling wont last for long. :sad:

Brilliant! :wink2:

I'm glad to see two new poets coming out of their shells!
Keep it up eveybody even if you smell! :ohmy:

Nuns in a Lexus
I was on my way to Texas,
when I saw two nuns in a Lexus,
they were snorting cocaine,
which I thought was insane,
so where are the cops to protect us?....


A Donkey named Jenny
I was walking to Abergavenny
when I was stopped by a donkey named Jenny
"Hee-haw, Hee-haw, Hee-haw dee-dee-daw?"
was to be the first question of many.....


.....I make these up you know.....


It was Blair...
I was riding my bike to Norwich,
when I slipped and fell in some porridge,
I'd blame it on Blair,
but he wasn't there,
and to blame it on Cherie would take courage

West Country bedsit
At a home for the criminally insane,
I bumped into young David Blaine,
He remarked "it's quite tragic"
I said "work your magic!"
so he did, and it wasn't in vain,
The patients all legged it,
to a West Country bedsit,
where they're now running riot again...


Cat throwing teacups
One sunday at Cat's brand new cheese shop
I broke my nose on a teacup
while raising a brow,
many patrons asked "how?"
"I'm sorry but you'll have to speak up...."
"HOW DID YOU DO IT?"
asked an old man from Clwyd,
quite angry that I couldn't hear
I said "that Cat threw it!"
though he already knew it,
he could tell from her wicked old sneer....


Pillows and Brillo's
One weekend in Newton-le-Willows
I sold almost a million pillows,
to Grannies and Bakers, and all manner of takers
now I'm hoping to sell forty "Brillo's"....

Cat throwing teacups
One sunday at Cat's brand new cheese shop
I broke my nose on a teacup
while raising a brow,
many patrons asked "how?"
"I'm sorry but you'll have to speak up...."
"HOW DID YOU DO IT?"
asked an old man from Clwyd,
quite angry that I couldn't hear
I said "that Cat threw it!"
though he already knew it,
he could tell from her wicked old sneer....





You where doing well till the end my friend

You where doing well till the end my friend









??????????????????:unsure:

??????????????????:unsure:
Thickly (sorry wrong thread)





It don't rhyme

Thickly (sorry wrong thread)





It don't rhymeoh my giddy aunt sally!....of course it piggin' rhymes - it all piggin' rhymes senor Cockney...have another look...

oh my giddy aunt sally!....of course it piggin' rhymes - it all piggin' rhymes senor Cockney...have another look...
though he already knew it,
he could tell from her wicked old sneer....



with your accsent maybe

There once was a vampire call Mabel
whose menstrel cycle was quite stable
by the light of the moon
and with the aid of a spoon
she would drink herself under theTable


I don’t think that’s how you spell the once a month curse but who cares

though he already knew it,


he could tell from her wicked old sneer....





with your accsent maybe
omg!! - you've never tried your hand at Limericks Cock have you?? If you think my rhyming is bad then there's this chap called Spike...........

....sneer has always rhymed with hear - i'm quite sure of it.....

There once was a vampire call Mabel


whose menstrel cycle was quite stable
by the light of the moon
and with the aid of a spoon
she would drink herself under theTable


I don’t think that’s how you spell the once a month curse but who cares
good....good.....now try making one up :laugh:

cockney we must do something about your spelling....it's atrocious in places....

Yes but Gnu thanks
I once knew a gnu from Zambezi,
whose jokes were incredibly cheesy,
on a bright sunny day,
one morning in May,
he told one that made me feel queazy,
if it weren't for the crocs,
I'd have picked up some rocks,
and done whatever it took to appease me.

Im feeling really down today
I've really got the blues
I don't know what I want to say
Its just sometimes we get bad news

Life can be a bitch a times
It makes you so feel so sad
It makes you feel like cracking up
Your mind is spinning, your going mad!

Theres things that can happen that we just cant change
A mix of emotions of a vast range
You try to be strong and fight it
But sometimes we just can't hide it

Im feeling really down
Im trying not to frown
Im trying hard to be strong
I hope this feeling wont last for long. :sad:
:mellow: ...oh dear, kimmy - now you've gone and got me all upset.......go out to the shops and get yourself a few creme eggs is my advice.....always works for me.....chocolate, and more chocolate!

Im feeling really down today
I've really got the blues
I don't know what I want to say
Its just sometimes we get bad news

Life can be a bitch a times
It makes you so feel so sad
It makes you feel like cracking up
Your mind is spinning, your going mad!

Theres things that can happen that we just cant change
A mix of emotions of a vast range
You try to be strong and fight it
But sometimes we just can't hide it

Im feeling really down
Im trying not to frown
Im trying hard to be strong
I hope this feeling wont last for long. :sad:...................:hug:

Im feeling really down today
I'm suffering from the blues
I don't know what I want to say
when sometimes there's bad news

Life can be a bitch at times
It makes you so feel so sad
It makes you feel like cracking up
As if you're going mad!

Some things happen that we just cant change
emotions mixed across a vast range
Making efforts to be strong, efforts to fight
It's just sometimes we can't hide it, right?

Im feeling really down
trying not to frown
Im trying hard to be strong
feelings I wish shall not last long :sad:

I edited your poem for you - now I think we really get the full expression of how your feeling Kimmy. Save one of those creme eggs for me....

Actually don't - 'cos I have 9 of the buggers right here in front of me (1 box of 6 and another of 3):)

Only one issue to raise - you posted it under the wrong thread. I'm afraid this is one is intended for nonsense poetry. You need to find the thread entitled Beautiful expressive poetry sweetheart...

Kimmy's beautiful poem

Final, final edit (iron-clad promise.....):cool2:

I'm feeling really down today
I'm suffering from the blues
No idea of what to say
When sometimes there's bad news

Life can be a bitch at times
It makes you so feel so sad
It makes you think you're cracking up
As if you're going mad!

Some things happen that we just cant change
emotions spread like butter across a vast range
Efforts of strength, efforts with fight
It's just sometimes we can't hide it, right?

:sad:

I deleted the final verse as I deemed it unnecessary and inconsequential to the dynamics of the poem. This is the condensed final, final edit......

Kimmy's beautiful poem

~

I'm feeling really down today
I'm suffering from the blues
Have no idea of what to say
When life offers me bad news

Life can be a bitch at times
It makes you so feel so sad
It makes you think you're cracking up
As if you're going mad!

Some things happen which can't be changed - the past
emotions spread like butter across a range so vast
Efforts showing strength, efforts showing fight
It's just sometimes we can't hide it, right?


This is most definitely the final final edited version of your poem. And if you look closely the shape of the text forms a little ship - what relevance this has, I'm not quite sure, but it forms a ship nonetheless......

I think I preferred Kimmy's version.

I think I preferred Kimmy's version.I love the one's who pop up of their little mole mounds to offer their occasional two-penneth's worth. Kimmy's version was just fine, but I felt it needed just a little tweak here and there. No harm done, and I happen to think it reads better with the minor alterations. Your opinion is as valid as mine though.....in spite of yours being crap....

I preferred Kimmy's version because it clearly came from the heart - and it was original, perfect or not.

I preferred Kimmy's version because it clearly came from the heart - and it was original, perfect or not.my gosh.....this appears to bother you more than I had first gauged......

Living with snails
There was a young dame from Wales,
who lived in the forest with snails,
her days became slow,
and i still do not know,
what a lifestyle like this entails....

On a bender with "Eastender"
Young Boris from Chorlton-cum-Hardy,
lived life like a continuous party,
he once tried to remember,
on a night in November,
how he fell in love with Todd Carty

Doris and hymn
Doris from Buckingham-shire
spent an evening with her local church choir
she took a big fancy
to one particular "nancy"
and now they own "Hymns-for-Hire"

Best not to say anything
An old man from a laundrette in Stoke,
washed his clothes near a good-looking bloke,
"How are you?", he asked him,
the bloke ran off right past him,
and to this day, the old man hasn't spoke

Two old ladies & harlot
Two old ladies from Bolton town centre,
saw a harlot and then tried to rent her,
they urged her to roam,
to the Old People's Home,
but they were spotted by a tee-vee news presenter

Just for a laugh
Roger from Bristol, near Bath
was always up for a laugh,
one day by the seaside,
he swam out, and then he tried
to sail over to Bridgend by raft

Wriggling to Rome
A worm by the name of Santana,
wriggled around wearing a purple bandana,
He once wriggled to Rome,
where he made it is home,
but he was killed by a mechanics spanner

WOW...you've been busy Woodsy! :ohmy:

Excellent! :)

Go away!
Don't talk anymore,
just shut the ****** up,
don't have an opinion,
don't read that book,
don't be spontaneous
consider every word,
for if you don't I'll
consider you absurd,
opinions aren't welcome,
not round these parts,
for we are the people,
who take things to heart,
one slip of your tongue,
one lapse in concentration,
and you'll be up for trial,
before the entire nation,
we'll censor you silly,
but we'll make you look worse,
your words are best travelled,
in a literary hearse,
you've not earned the right,
to become one of us,
we're better than you,
.....aren't we just,
maybe one or two like you,
but the majority despise,
you'll remain on the outside,
you''re dirt in our eyes,
turn back around,
and we'll forgive you your sin,
but stay round these parts,
and we'll all jump right in.
Go away!

A Week in the Life of Me

I don't like Mondays,
but Tuesday are fine,
Wednesday is better,
and Thursday's sublime,
Friday, I'm knackered,
Saturday I'm free,
and Sunday belongs to no-one but me....


:cool:

Erm...
====
Some days are more weird and freaky than others
But can seem perfectly normal compared to my brothers
Or is my father or maybe my mothers
That make my days seem normal to theirs and all others

champagne tulips tend to think
fabric cats eyes can blink
mobile sofas disagree
balls of wool run wild and free

tonee that's utter nonsense :D

Unlike this :blink:

Dingle dangle, fiddle de dee
Jingle jangle I’m a tree
Rinky Dinky, riddle me free
Stinky winky, widdle and wee

Pure class eh!

Ode to you
------------

Noxie rhymes with Foxy
Buzz with fuzz
Cat rhymes with fat
But I'll say no more about that
Voice rhymes with choice
Ils with Pills
Tonee rhymes with boney
Unlike Cat the twenty stoney..... :ninja:

Ode to you
------------

Noxie rhymes with Foxy
Buzz with fuzz
Cat rhymes with fat
But I'll say no more about that
Voice rhymes with choice
Ils with Pills
Tonee rhymes with boney
Unlike Cat the twenty stoney..... :ninja:

A message to Nox and Coastie you are ****e. i, at least, constructed my prose....!!

[QUOTE=Coastie]Ode to you
------------


Cat rhymes with fat

Unlike Cat the twenty stoney..... :ninja:


Ummmm I'm telling on you!!!!!!

Coastie should make the moastie
Of her very short life
Because Coastie, for all her boastie
Is about to hit some STRIFE!
:boxing:
By. Fat Cat

Coastie should make the moastie
Of her very short life
Because Coastie, for all her boastie
Is about to hit some STRIFE!
:boxing:
By. Fat Catgo girl! lol!

Coastie should make the moastie
Of her very short life
Because Coastie, for all her boastie
Is about to hit some STRIFE!
:boxing:
By. Fat Cat

ATTACK!
----------
Cat takes a swing
But it whistles past my head
I strike back with a chop
And ding dong the witch is dead :boxing:

***
Tonee
------
You may be able to construct your prose
And make us simpletons, fell real low
But I have to say you should really know
I'm going to punch you, on the nose! :boxing:

ATTACK!
----------

***
Tonee
------
You may be able to construct your prose
And make us simpletons, fell real low
But I have to say you should really know
I'm going to punch you, on the nose! :boxing:


Take a swing for it Coastie I am hardy I should tell you.
But what do they say about the people with the hardest outer selves?
They are so soft and vulnerable inside.
So go take a swing!!!

Awww you had to throw in that big softy inside bit....how can I punch you on the nose now! :sad:

Poo
----
Pellets of poo ping in the loo
The splatter gun sprays
And feels really eeeew
The u-bend jammer
Requires a unblocking
Where as the bobber requires
Multiple flushing. :sick:

Awww you had to throw in that big softy inside bit....how can I punch you on the nose now! :sad:

Poo
----
Pellets of poo ping in the loo
The splatter gun sprays
And feels really eeeew
The u-bend jammer
Requires a unblocking
Where as the bobber requires
Multiple flushing. :sick:

I am dying from that hit all alone here in Dublin..boohoo

Ode to Pandora
-----------------
Her name is Pandora
You'd be wrong to ignore her

************************

Ode to Woodstock
-------------------
He writes and he writes and he writes
And one day his name will be in lights

*************************

Bogies
--------
If I were a bogey
I'd stick right up your nose
I'd cling hard to your nostril hair
If you gave your nose a blow
I'd crust up and cause a tickle
As I cling to the nasal wall
I'd stick so fast that I'd peel skin off
If with your finger you did maul
The only way you'd get me out
Is by having the guts to pick
I'd suggest you use the little finger
The others are to thick
One thing I'd say is don't be seen
As it's not a pretty sight
To see someone picking right up their nose
As with a bogey they do fight.

ATTACK!
----------
Cat takes a swing
But it whistles past my head
I strike back with a chop
And ding dong the witch is dead


RETALIATE

--------------
Coastie would be wrong to think the witch is dead
Hiding, should she be - under her bed
For when Cat takes her pose
and retorts her repose
Coastie will filled with dread.
:ohmy:

Little dog crossing street
motor car.....sausage meat


Dont mean to offend the dog lovers of the world!

Awwwwww tonee!!!

Little dog crossing street
No nasty cars does he meet

Awwwwww tonee!!!

Little dog crossing street
No nasty cars does he meet

You are a saviour of all little dogs Nox!!

ATTACK!
----------
Cat takes a swing
But it whistles past my head
I strike back with a chop
And ding dong the witch is dead


RETALIATE

--------------
Coastie would be wrong to think the witch is dead
Hiding, should she be - under her bed
For when Cat takes her pose
and retorts her repose
Coastie will filled with dread.
:ohmy:

DEFENCE
-----------
Coastie blocks with her left hand
Reaches out with the right
Wham, bam, bam
Catches Cat across the brow
Cat sprawls onto the floor
Who's crying now?

**********************

Little Doggy did not see
The very large white lorry

Cow Pats
----------
Cow pats come in many forms
Some are big but some are small
They dot the fields in random array
Waiting for a boot to stray
In the sun they go hard and crispy
And can make for a real good frisbee
But the fresh ones are sloppy and eew
They are not nice when they meet with your shoe
I often wonder and think a bit
How can a cow produce so much poo?

Cow Pats
----------
Cow pats come in many forms
Some are big but some are small
They dot the fields in random array
Waiting for a boot to stray
In the sun they go hard and crispy
And can make for a real good frisbee
But the fresh ones are sloppy and eew
They are not nice when they meet with your shoe
I often wonder and think a bit
How can a cow produce so much poo?
Coastie, cow pats/poo/pooting etc what's going on here? Did you have a **** upbringing???!!!!

Tonee
-------
I could try to explain why I right such filth
So take a moment and pause
I simply type what's on my mind
Which is generally a load of **** of cause

morning eyes are hard to open
in the first few hours
groping skills help with the copen
as i charge my powers



tea, tea, earl grey tea is how I like to start the day
air, breeze, wakes me up and showers lead the way


Penguins dress very smartly
in their black and white
whales blow out their sea spray bogies
because their dress is ****e

utter nonsense which I am happy to contribute today!

I Have Seen
--------------
What I have seen throughout my years
Has brought me laughter and some tears
I have seen my country go to war
Argentina, Kuwait and Iraq of course
I have seen to many innocents killed
By a handful religiously willed
I have seen terror drive the world insane
As the corrupt seek political gain
I have seen many thousands fade and die
As the bowl of food passes them by
I've seen giant waves tear out a nations heart
But have seen others join to provide a fresh start
I have seen musicians of each endeavour
Unite to free Nelson Mandela
To push toward the end of third world debt
By Band Aid and Live Aid the stage was set
I have seen that the majority has spoken
On Poll Tax and the Miners vocation
I've seen the mindless few shame a nation
Wearing my countries flag as they cause provocation
I have seen a Princess die to young
And witnessed the pain of her two sons
I have seen the nation mourn and pray
As books are signed and flowers laid
But as I have seen my countries pain
I have seen it long will reign
For we the people have a spirit which will always burn
We will fight and win as the Aussies have learned
We will not let others tear us down
We will hold our heads up and say we are proud
For what our ancestors have done before
I have faith this generation will achieve more.

Blimey Coastie, where did that come from! That was impressive.

Not that the others weren't good, but.. I'll stop digging a whole for myself. Well done you.

Blimey Coastie, where did that come from! That was impressive.

Not that the others weren't good, but.. I'll stop digging a whole for myself. Well done you.

I have just read it again....It just kinda spilled out into the post......it's amazing what comes out of a sleep deprieved brain...I think I might keep a copy of this one! :mellow:

Faith
-----
Faith can be a simple thing
If in Jesus, God or your own thing
You can put out your foot in thick fog
And rest assured you'll find a rock
Even if no mountains move
A bit of faith will help you improve
It gives you confidence to take that step
That if refused you would live to regret
It can make you feel ten feet tall
When others try to make you feel small
Yes faith can be a simple thing
And help you achieve most anything.
:thumbsup:

Tonee....see I can avoid the vulgar stuff sometimes...not very often but sometimes! :laugh:

Questions?
------------
Why is the earth so round not square?
How does it simply hang in mid air?
What makes it spin? What makes me stick
To the surface without feeling sick?
Why is sea blue and land so green?
Where does the sun go when it's not seen?
Why does the moon wear a smile?
How fat is the Earth measured in miles?
So many questions I have to muse
But then I am only 3 plus 2!

Tonee....see I can avoid the vulgar stuff sometimes...not very often but sometimes! :laugh:

!
Pooting isnt vulgar it is a natural act, particularly natural to you Coastie after veg/curries! I do think your skill at poetry should be used to dedicate a verse or two to this important activity. Give it some formal recognition!

Parps!
-------
In the past I've had a parp
Escape without regard
For anyone who may be near
Or simply walking past
It would errupt without remorse
For anyone in the room
And fill the air from here to there
With a green fog like icky plume
But now I have some control
Of the wind I hold inside
And only love puff now and then
And always with much pride!

The following is dedicated to tonee.....

As I Type
-----------
I sit and braid my armpit hair
Whilst thinking of you all
I wonder if you're fat or thin
Or if you're short or tall
I comb the hairs upon my legs
And wonder about the times
When I have been chatting here online
Pooting eggy chimes
I pick my nose and contemplate
If life has a deeper meaning
I read your posts and find myself
Thinking your minds need cleaning
I scratch my bum and belch a bit
As I think of what comes next
In the end I simply gaze
Totally perplexed!

TO COASTIE:

I wake up in the morning and my belly starts to rumble
I wonder what will fill the space, is it too early for apple crumble?
I search the fridge for ingredients that will keep my taste buds satisfied
Come across some dripping bogies, and think "this could be nice fried"
I take a kiwi and mash it with my knuckles straight after a poo
I add some lime juice, get elated, "oh this is going to be so, so good"
Get the blender mixing bogies, kiwis and lime
Run to the Somba bar so I can serve it to my friends on time

:sick:

To Tonee...
------------
I had to call the doctor
After one of Tonees brews
The doctor told me it was no good
I'd eaten Tonees poo :pooh:
I've just got one more day to live
And have so much to say
Like Tonee why'd ya poison me
Was it what I said today?
I was only joking about your smell
I didn't mean to be so cruel
I thought you'd take it on the chin
See the funny side of it all
I guess I was so very dumb
To think you would take it that way
And now I'm feeling very glum
On this my last living day!

:laugh: :laugh: Brilliant SF! :laugh: :laugh:

Boobs
------
Big boobs are nice if you can support them
A handful is nice if a man is to enjoy them
Small ones are good if the man wants a mouth full
But droppy ones don't make the grade or an eye full
The drag on the ground or get caught in knickers
You step on your nipples and make the kids snicker
They are an embarassment if you go on the swings
They really are the most akward of things!

Omg that is hilarious! :)

BORED NOW!
---------------
It's early morn and I am bored
With only Fee for all on the board
It's not that she has nothing to say
Just that she is very slow today
I'm struggling to find a place post
To contribute, to bore, to boast
So I have had to resort to this thread again
To stop me going round the bend!

:sick:

To Tonee...
------------
I had to call the doctor
After one of Tonees brews
The doctor told me it was no good
I'd eaten Tonees poo :pooh:
I've just got one more day to live
And have so much to say
Like Tonee why'd ya poison me
Was it what I said today?
I was only joking about your smell
I didn't mean to be so cruel
I thought you'd take it on the chin
See the funny side of it all
I guess I was so very dumb
To think you would take it that way
And now I'm feeling very glum
On this my last living day!
I take it you are now on borrowed time. Hope you are intensely appreciating everything (poo and all).

I wrote this about my friends little downs syndrome girl


People stand and sometimes stare
Do they see or even care
To understand this special child
Who took my heart, had me beguiled
She's more than you Iwant to shout
God never left anything out
An extra chromesome he gave
She doesn't drool she doesn't rave
Just gives her love to all who care
So open up and you can share
This lovely girl who's there to see
It could be you, it could be me.

Aww Mazwad that is so beautiful, it has brought tears to my eyes :cry:

Can do funny too

This was after my brother George over celebrated his birthday

Old George he had his birthday
Got drunk down the pub
Struggled home and chucked up
Washed off in the tub
Twas then he found the problem
There was something that he missed
His Dentures were down the toilet
So even his teeth got pi*sed

Good ones Maz...enjoyed those.

Excellent Maz...keep em coming! :thumbsup:

Pigging out
-------------
I think I've had to many cookies
The packet is now clean
I had a Crunchie for a snack
Before that I had icecream
I had a big roast dinner
That should have seen me through
But now another pack of cookies
Is saying 'I'm all for you'!

GOB SENS’E


Break the fish with the curly wurly hat,
Reach for the balloon cos the bingo went splat.
Run to the fall and kick the sit down,
Freeze the pork and the plaice will see clown.

Chorus
Rich tomatoes smell, foreign skates,
Keep backwards, soap on the gates.

Over the plenty of spicy human tricks,
Fill the bridge wasting floating sticks.
After hash browns mention typical trains,
The chance floats before quietness exchanges brains.

Brown rice charges the waterfall,
Praise the elephant, the rich bag is school.
Pick placid rain under living chips,
Fluorescent ponds make toads in pips.

Chorus
Rich tomatoes smell, foreign skates,
Keep backwards, soap on the gates.

Fly, Fly, Fly

by Neates

I like life on planet Neates...nice one! :thumbsup:

You're going to fit right in Neates. :D

:pooh:


Everybody needs them
But nobody wants them
They just get wiped away
I might just block my drains up
So they have somewhere to stay

Paula
-------
Run Paula Run
Don't stop for a wee
But if you must, do it with class
And not all over me!

Run Paula Run
Don't stop for a poo
But if you must, do it with style
And make the crowd go eeew!

TRAJECTORY

Kicca trembled in the coal bunker
Long after the Guard took his mother.
By now she would be branded,
banished from the Citadel,
beaten by circumstances and by the Guard,
wife of tainted blood
facing whoredom or starvation in the Hinterland,
or barbarism in the distant mountains.

If she survived the beating
she must decide whether to live or die.
Kicca faced no such decision.
Boys of tainted blood
died with their fathers;
sons of black marketeer traitors
lost their lives in the marketplace,
their tainted blood flowing in the gutters.

No bolthole remained in Citadel or Hinterland.
His tainted bloodline could stay here and stop
or continue, in the mountains or on the sea.
Recalled snippets of tainted conversation
informed him that Citadel dreams
extended to the coast, Citadel screens
monitored trade with growing efficiency.
Danger there, or barbarism in the mountains.

Chose danger, as danger had chosen him.
Ragged, cold and coal blackened,
crept out of childhood,
walked in shadows through strange streets,
slipped into sewers and swam south,
leaving the Citadel in appropriate fashion,
stinking and shivering, scared of death
and scared of life.

A NIGHT AT THE STANDING RIG INN

Kicca wiped his rainbow knife clean
and checked his reflection
for traces of image powder,
pattern radiation, track identification.
The slightest clumsy key
would betray his genes
upon the controlled screens
around Oldcobble Harbour.

Avoided the window.
Left the shutters open
and the tassled lamp unlit.
Used bright moonlight
to eye the straw pallet
for signs of rodent life.
He’d not hand the revenuemen
his sphere on a platform!

Wedged an oak chair
against the doorknob,
gauged the distance and drop
to inky water from window
and stretched upon the straw,
lean and fully booted,
sword and sharpened horseshoe to hand.
Tomorrow is another challenge.

Drifted into uneasy sleep
to the creak of hawser,
the wet slap on timber,
a sad distant harmonica.
Dreamed a strange dream of a land
where coin is king and queen
and revenuemen control all screens.
Whimpered and woke, sweating, to healthy danger.

A DAY OF DISCOVERY

Kicca worked his passage
on a freebooter;
sailed north up the west coast
selling weaponry to barbarians,
always happy to increase Citadel insecurity
yet, curiously, never happy;
jumped ship at Inisrock,
stole a horse and headed for the mountains;

headed for the clear air,
for solitude and cleansing,
for cold mountain streams
and freedom from screens;
discovered a timeless peak
where the view showed his past
and a dozen futures
waiting to be chosen;

discovered a holy woman,
a wise hermit living in a cave
blessed with bamboo wind flutes
and a warm well,
blessed with votive offerings
from barbarian women,
blessed with calm serenity
and a Citadel brand on her cheek;

discovered his mother;
shared her last weeks;
shared her forgiveness for his father
and her patience, her balance;
buried her body and took her spirit
back to her Abbey for release from pain;
stayed to study;
stayed for good.

SLOGAN

He heard their approach;
searched with sapphire arrows
through the grey area
where snowladen sky
meets frozen moor;
watched their pasts winging
in to merge their presents
and their futures with his.

Three local horses
carried the village girl Vira
and two foreigners.
Powerful frames:
mountain mercenaries
far from home,
warriors about their business,
about to discover him.

“That’s Kicca,” whispered Vira.
“He’s our holy man.”
“Kicca the Vicar,” sniggered the youth
to Vira’s hush and his father’s flared glare.
The father studied the ancient figure
sitting cross legged on the moor,
in a small island of greenery
amid melted snow and bluebells.

“And you are..?” asked the old one.
“My name is Slogan.”
“And Slogan means..?”
“In my language: war-cry.”
“Of course it does.” And he smiled
in the knowledge that, one day,
Slogan and he would gather their forces
and breech the Citadel walls together.

Wow! :ohmy:

MEDAL MELTING

My sword has tasted blood
for causes of variable worth.
My blood has tasted battle.

My flesh has tasted metal
for men of dubious credentials.
My mettle has been tested.

I am less than the sum of my forebears.
I am, like each of them, just one man.
And my blood seethes with their fury.

Harps sing silently in my ears;
dark tartan colours my inner eye;
pipes mourn low within my heart.

Their battles rage within me.
My knowledge of their wars
shames me.

My blood mocks me for a mercenary,
for who have I served
if not the inheritors of my freedom?

My marrow is sick of my service.
I bear my warrior wounds lightly,
but I will wear their coin no more.

The day has gone off with a spin
I don't know if I can declare a win
I think I did the best I could
If I did not I think I should
Take myself into line
And tell myself to step in time
This rhyme has gone to far to pot
I am killing time incase you had guessed not! :sad:

The day has gone off with a spin
I don't know if I can declare a win
I think I did the best I could
If I did not I think I should
Take myself into line
And tell myself to step in time
This rhyme has gone to far to pot
I am killing time incase you had guessed not! :sad:

The day has got off to a spin
because Coastie's been downing the gin
She guzzled her quart
Stripped off near her port
And pooted to all with a big, fat grin

LEGEND

I remember you in highlights.
I learned your legend
from photographs and family stories.

You, smoking your pipe at the helm on Iamhar
(he and his three friends poured
all their early earnings into that yacht).

You, in National Service uniform
(popular but homesick in Germany,
two years of letters upstairs in a box).

You and Mum, signing the register in retouched Technicolor
(Auntie Edna always said
he looked like Clark Gable)

You, holding the infant me in faded black and white
(he cried on the night you were born).
I saw your eyes every morning while I shaved.

You were an orphan and you orphaned me.
Did I grow my beard to avoid orphaning your grandchildren,
or to escape from your shadow?

Did I go to sea to find you,
or to build my own legend
in waves taller than yours?

How could I compete with perfection?
If my life had been as short as yours,
would I have been seen to make fewer mistakes?

I am older than you now,
but when I see your photograph I am five years old
and I miss you.

That brought a tear to my eye Dab.

As an SO addict I freely admit
I look and I post then go off for a bit
But I am soon drawn back for another look
can't remember when I last read a book
Into my life this forum has come
now I never get anything done
Is there a cure, now please do tell
before I hear Mr M again yell
Are you on that bl**dy thing again
as I quickly press red x and pretend I'm not in
So do all you others lie about time
that you spend here at Survivor Online
Or is it just me, pathetic I know
but I love all the new mates I've made on SO.

I'll just pop in for a minute
But it is addictive, innit?
The hours they come
The hours they go
I've lost the plot...
...Thanks SO!!!

Dab, I'm all choked up now. Beautiful.

Thank you Maz and Nox. :) That means a lot to me. This one's a bit of fun:


SUMMER STORM

Electricity fills the heavy air
like the aftertaste of a copper coin;
leaves a bitter puckering, a thirst for freshness.

Birds swoop in manic dives,
in-flight fuelling on insects under high pressure,
shocked into a short low-level existence.

The earth opens her pores and releases her oldest odour.
Distant sounds carry with eerie clarity,
disturbing equilibrium and infusing numb senses
with a hint of imminent danger.
The valley holds its breath:

except the rabbits, who couple in apocalyptic frenzy
drawing comfort from everyday activities on this last day
or desperately trying to increase species survival statistics
as the end of the world approaches.
At the last moment even these seek sanctuary
as the very air trembles
and stretches and

shatters into sharp light,
jagged particles ripping normality apart,
tracing part of a pattern too large
to be understood at local level;

explodes into magnetic sound
so loud as to be utterly silent
here, at ground zero,
where the nerve centre receives a signal
from ear-drums to shocked to comprehend
via a brain in the process of liquation:
awestruck,
helpless,
awestruck;

the valley is frozen in space and time,
isolated in stroboscopic light,
suspended inside sound,
naked within a force of creation.

In an instant,
in a blink,
it never happened.
The pressure is lifted,
heavy raindrops wash the air clean
and the thoughtful earth drinks deep.

Memory stirs like an unshared dream,
filed away for now.

For now the earth hums,
the stream sings,
the trees drum,
and the rabbits dance.

Hat stands
As foreign lands

The side walks
While pub crawls

Butter flies
When the chain smokes

Words count
(So I added 'em up and now I drops in to leave you my verse)


:)

Park the periled squirrel sings
Give me nuts with everything
Give me a home up in the trees
See me fly from and swing from leaves
Watch as I perform my dance
Landing safely but not by chance
See me as I dig a hole
In the ground my nuts will go
Park the periled squirrel sings
Give me nuts with everything!

This is a respectful nod to my birthplace.


WALLASEY

As summer flies south
he leaves the land a quiet place.
The brashest flash-in-the-pans have faded
into green manure,
and left the stage clear
for mellow perennials
to get on with business.
Rose-hips ripen in the gentle light
and syrup of evening woodsmoke
heralds autumn, waiting in the wings
for his younger brother to depart.

How I love this season.
My earliest autumn memory
sees me putting away summer shorts
and dressing in Tuf Wayfinders and jeans,
businesslike denims, before fashion claimed me,
before girls became more than a mild irritant;
sees me spending daylight fishing and tramping
in the living mossland that held
Wallasey apart from Wirral;
before the mossland was claimed
for the motorway and lost; forever?

Except in this season.
I can still smell the ancient
mud and vegetation that held
the saxon at bay for fourteen centuries,
until the motorway completed the invasion.
Waleas Eig, Island of Foreigners.
The silent black earth is not dead
but hidden under concrete, waiting.
While I still smell the earth in autumn,
I remain a hidden foreigner in my land;
waiting.

Oooh dab - did you go to New Brighton for donkey rides?

Oooh dab - did you go to New Brighton for donkey rides?

We lived very near the beach, Fee, but it was the sandhills part facing the Irish Sea a few miles down from New Brighton. Used to go there and hang out at the open air swimming pool and the fair all through the summer holidays. Only ever rode a donkey in Blackpool, though, I think.

We used to cajole the donkey man to let us take the donkeys off by ourselves. Little buggers were so well trained they would only ever plod to the post in the ground and then turn round and come back again, dashing our hopes of galloping off down the beach.

I remember buying paper flags and windmills for our sandcastles, and then the excitement of queuing to get the ferry back.

:w00t:

Oh, the ferry. I can taste the salty air and hear Gerry Marsden singing now. :wub:

Ferry 'cross the Mersey
On the fringes of the Pond
Broke my little heart it did...

No spells, no wings, no wand!!

crap ode to nox:

hairy bellies cause us to cry

alligator tears because we dont know why

why our navels demand so much care

when we could easily hardly ever go there

but give us all some creme caramel

some wine, some tweezers, someone to tell

of the operations involving a great deal of work

all to facilitate the extrication like unplugging a cork

SONG OF EXILE

Was it the dawn that woke his pain
or did his wound, jagged and raw
for all the months of tender care,
drag him from fretful sleep again?

And once again the pain is dulled,
muffled inside his slamming head:
the residue of all the mead
he drank to keep his senses dulled.

A mug of water slakes his thirst.
He thunders full his night time pot,
slides it slowly beneath his cot,
and puts his bad leg to the test.

He drags his wound across the floor,
pulls the fur around his shoulders,
(the world, this morning, seems much colder)
shivers in his window chair.

He gazes from his vantage point.
Pain and sickness he could bear
but this gentle view brings him despair.
He sighs from deep within his heart.

The longest summer of his days
has passed by since the Spring campaign
left him bitter and useless, lame,
despising all their gentle ways.

He looks down from his hilltop cell,
sees the gentle village stirring,
looks downriver, welcomes yearning
as he searches for the sea smell.

One of the young village females
will soon arrive with breakfast cooked.
None of his needs are overlooked.
He has woken up in far worse jails.

He cannot work out the order.
The women come up at random.
A duty, yet framed in freedom;
a curious, flexible roster.

Some women come up for ages,
others for only one day.
He suspects the length of their stay
is connected to his rages.

They feed him and help him to bathe.
They clean, treat and bandage his thigh.
Some are brave and others are shy;
some mistresses, others like slaves.

The sunrise blinds him to this green
and gently sloping, fertile land.
His mind’s eye sees his heart’s homeground
and, silently, his spirit keens.

The hard and splendid black cliffs rise
up from the crashing waves below
and spawn a race the whole world knows
for the mad fightlust in their eyes.

His countrymen: a famous breed
of fearless, brave, warlike seadogs
who prosper in the northern rocks
on hard-earned mercenary gold.

The war band under his command
set sail for this southern place,
commissioned to find and erase
some seaborne raiders from the land.

Spirits were high. The promise of war,
and future tales of bravery,
and thoughts of proud prosperity:
these were things these men thirsted for.

His son, upon his first campaign:
a tall dark prince among his peers,
and confident beyond his years
for his father was the captain.

Muscular and with a swagger
the boy spoke to him, man to man.
And he was pleased to play along,
sharpening his favourite dagger.

Now, in his bath, two women sweat
to bring him peace and cleanliness,
while he attempts not to notice
their attentions or their heat.

They towel him dry, get his wound dressed,
massage his aches with fragrant oil.
He, with gratitude for their toil,
invites them both to share his rest.

He proceeds to do his duty
(their continued ministrations
occupying half his attention),
dimly aware of their beauty.

Memory takes him back to Spring
when he first saw dawn at this place,
the morning sun lighting his face
as he prepared for the killing.

The raider ship was at anchor,
almost hidden in an inlet,
guarded by a drunken quartet,
singing as death entered harbour.

Bolts dispatched the drunks easily.
Two vessels were tied up hard together.
Men slipped into the water
and swam to the beach silently.

Paused upon the beach a moment:
death howled down from behind sandhills
ambush struck with deadly hot skill
sand turned wine dark in an instant.

Thoughts of treachery for later:
for now, life and death in struggle,
equals joined in final battle,
killers meeting their Creator.

This would be annihilation.
Nothing could escape this carnage.
A fitting end for youth and age
from two strong warrior nations.

Life reduced to kill or be killed
surge of blood lust heat of sliced flesh
howls of madness screams of anguish
cut and thrust of strength against skill

discarded limbs discarded lives
face to face hate back to strong back
horror and fear and stab and hack
pink bile and blood froth in the waves

saw his son charge into glory
fought and struggled towards his side
reached that place after the boy died
took his killer’s head in fury.

Fought till only he was standing,
a broken sword blade in his thigh.
Dropped from blood loss: breathed a last sigh,
thankful for an angry ending.

Thrust and stabbed till he exploded;
jerked and shuddered all his hot pain:
would not run to battle again;
still his talent is exploited.

Settles back into deathlike sleep.
He has given this land one son:
why should he not give more than one?
It seems this service pays his keep.

Beautiful words Dab tried to rep you but wouldn't let me.

Friendly Advice for the Guys
-------------------------------
Chocolate is a a ladies best friend
When at that time the free month does end
It helps make the ugginess subside
And stops us biting the heads off, of those who pass by
It gives a woman a reason to live on and smile
When the back ache and heaviness follow all the while
The happy endorphines it springs into life
Are a reminder to men to supply your wife
With lots of chocolate when her head starts to
And you start to think she possessd from within

Boyfriends buy for girlfriends
Lads buy for the women you know
Do your part for world peace
And see your ladies smile start to grow
Don't be afraid of the tyranical beast
Which every month is released
Calm it with a bar of cadbury's dairy milk
Of a hundred kilo grams at least!

FROM A SANDBANK

I have lived upon the sea.
I have known the freedom of salt air
in my lungs, salt wind in my hair,
the violent exhilaration of near death.
I have stood up in the bow
as it thumped and soared and thumped and thumped and soared,
and I have struggled to stay alive at the stern
as it plunged under and plunged and stayed and stayed under,
and I have laughed with maniacal glee
when we broke surface eventually.
I have really lived upon the sea.

And I have lived upon the land.
I have survived courses when survival
meant more than just passing the course.
I have eaten things I would rather
not even touch,
and I have gone further
than I ever thought I could,
and I have stayed alive
and I have survived.
I have really lived upon the land.

And I have shared these things with friends.
We were friends because we shared these things.
Some survived.
Others did not.
I suspect you did.
At least, I hope so.

You are my oppo,
my best friend,
my confidant.

We went through hell and high water together.
I know you are still alive
because sometimes I think your thoughts.

You are the one who took me to sea,
taught me to defy the storm and to live.
You are the one who led me up the mountains,
taught me to survive and to live.
You are the one,
and I always thought I would see you again.
You are my youth,
and I still think I will see you again.
We are a team and we keep each other alive.

Civvies don’t understand that,
although sometimes they think they do.
They just don’t understand it:
that’s something we always knew.
Civvies survive, often without knowing why.
We really live because we’re not afraid to die.

You are hope and I hope you are still alive.
I hope you come crawling out of the surf,
wearing that stupid bandanna,
with a glint in your eye
and a knife between your teeth.

I hope so.

STILL THERE

We walked down to the river today.
First time in years: too many years.
You were still there.
Solid. Placid. Permanent.

Things come and go, but you remain:
still and strong;
granite and slate;
massively present despite your ancient fire scars,
inflicted before the tall cedars were planted
to line your river, still your river.


We fell in love with you at first sight;
whispered of High Gothic restoration;
set your mysterious shadows dancing
in the firelight if our dreams.

But the council would not sell.
The land was reserved to make room
for a road-widening scheme
to feed a new industrial estate.


Things come and go.
Factories, thrown up in haste, forced into leisure,
attempt to assume your noble nonchalance
but fail again, and rust, and crumble.
The road was never widened
and now,
more than ever,
your stately, scarred strength inspires.

Not sure your poetry belongs in a thread with the word nonsense in the title Dab!

Thank you, Gel. :) But I like writing it here, actually. This place is very real to me.

ANIMATED SUSPENSION

Looking back, I see the approach road
leaving a land of solid certainty.
That place of strong primary colours
and warm rich soil still lives.
It is behind me now and the road
is signed: No Entry.


I am on a bridge, suspended
over a moody sea of dark swirling.
Half-hidden currents of interest
slide enticingly beneath the oily skin,
reflect the midnight sky and shoreside lights
and promise, promise, promise.


I am the bridge, stretching
over welcoming waters
towards a land I have heard of in dreams
and tales and promises.
My faith is my tensile strength.
The proof is in the testing.

You keep turning them out Dab...this is wonderful....a couple of goosebumps came up.....thank-you for sharing it! :thumbsup:

NURSING HOME CARER


Because of you
they are not merely waiting.
Their house is crowded
with pleasant harmonies.
They sing their coda
with quiet dignity.


Because of you
they dream.
The currency of their dreams
is silver peace.
The produce of their dreams
is a shared smile.


There is always the temptation to believe
that every silver lining has cloudy potential,
but you reflect sunlight and expose
this philosophy in its transparency.
Because of you
they don't dream it's over.

TWO POINTS

I discovered you on my first day in college,
at the centre of a second-year in-crowd,
floating around the quadrangle court:
shooting baskets;
shooting star;
shooting my young self-image to pieces.

A cold day in late September was no reason
for your Air Force greatcoat, as I discovered
the following summer when you refused to tan.
It floated around your thin frame
like a sheet anchor failing. Like your hair;
your perfect hair; your perfect white hair:
centre-parted and fine, long and combed.

You drew attention in order to ignore it.



I worked myself onto the team,
but not in on the act.
I trained hard and learned the skills.
I grunted and sweated with the rest,
but not with you: never with you.



I watched you melt like mist through every defence.
I remember you floating, gliding, dipswerving.
I saw you cover half a court on a lay-up.

But I never heard you grunt
and I never saw you sweat.

I watched you accept the applause
with your private smile, your inward gaze.

I wonder how life treated you when play stopped.

How lovely dab, you romantic old fool :)

I finally found what I was loking for
Beneath the kitchen sink
It had been there all along
I just didn't seem to think
I'd looked for it beneath the sofa
And all across the floor
I'd peered into the darkest spaces
Of every room and hall
But there it was all this time
Just waiting to be seen
Beneath the kitchen sink it was
My super strength Mr Sheen!

He said he was just popping down the pub
That was three hours ago
He said he would have just the one
But he's had more I know
He said he wouldn't get drunk tonight
But I know that before long
I'll here the thump upon the door
As the step he gets all wrong
He'll tell me that he loves me
A try and land a sloppy kiss
He smile at me inanly
As in the wash basket he'll whizz
Eventually he'll fall into bed
Like a baby he will sleep
Then in the morning I'll find a way
To disturb the peace
I'll bang every pan that I can find
And claim to just be cleaning
I'll decide to hover every room
And Tina Turner will be screaming
Then just as his head is about to explode
I'll take him up a cuppa
Just to here him say those words
I'll never have another!

Scarey fish oh scarey fish
Why do you look so scarey
Hairy hound oh hairy hound
Why do you look so hairy
Bubble wrap oh bubble wrap
Why are you so fun to squeeze
Peach blossom oh Peach blossom
Why do you make me sneeze
Octopuss oh octopuss
How far can you stretch
Girraffe oh girraffe
Do you ever get a pain in the neck
daffodill of daffodill
Why are you so yellow
Decaf coffee oh decaf coffee
Why are you so mellow

The light bul goes on
The light bulb goes off
The light bulb goes on
The light bulb goes off
On, Off, On, Off
The light bulb goes on
The light bulb goes off